


Candles and Changes

by Stormfet



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, Clexa, F/F, I write all the fluff, a full time job, all of the candles, also all of the fluff, i am aware, is slim, just go with it, lexa loves her candles, so many candles, straight out of school, that the chance of lexa getting, this entire story is fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 12:58:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6285376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormfet/pseuds/Stormfet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU in which Clarke is an art student at Arkadia University, and begins working at a shop selling candles. Little does Lexa (a social worker) know her life is about to be changed when she goes to buy the new fall fragrances...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Candles and Changes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Commander Lexa](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Commander+Lexa).



Lexa was going to the store on her usual run for supplies when her life changed dramatically.

It was a usual day, a wednesday afternoon, Lexa had just gotten out of work dealing with the crazies for the day (she was a social worker, and though she enjoyed helping people and telling them what to do and how to get money, there were some people that really drove her off the wall -- this older woman, Nia, for example, who had threatened to kill her today; not anything out of the ordinary though), and she was heading to her favorite local shop to pick up some new candles for the evening. Her stock was running low, and with the approach of fall the pumpkin candles would be coming out soon.

She opened the door to Trikru (she had no idea what the name meant, but it always sounded like her kind of place, and reminded her of her last name for some reason), and stepped inside, the bell tinkling and announcing her presence to the store, breathing the scent of wax and fragrance. The shop sold other things too, soaps and herbal mixes, but the wall of homemade candles on the left of the shop was her favorite place to buy candles. 

Lexa stopped for a moment. Normally it was either Lincoln or Indra working the counter, who had seen her many times and would have flagged her over for a conversation or two, but today it was someone new. Lexa turned to look, and nearly fell over.

The most gorgeous girl she had ever laid eyes on was sitting behind the register, going through a stocklist at the shop. Her eyes were down on her paper, she hadn’t noticed Lexa walk in the room. Her blonde, curly hair was long and loose, hung down her back, half up at the top, and her blue eyes were like a clear blue sky on the beach -- you could get lost in them.

Lexa darted behind one of the shelves to get a closer look. She couldn’t stop looking over this girl. She wanted to know her name, who she was, where she lived, everything. She took a few deep breaths, ducking behind the shelf. 

Not this again, Lexa thought to herself. The last time she had fallen for a girl this hard, this fast, had been...No. Don’t think about her. 

Lexa closed her eyes and regained her composure. Play it cool, Woods, she thought to herself, and stepped out from behind the shelf. She looked over the candles, spotting the pumpkin fragrance on the center of the shelf. The sign next to them advertised a sale for the new candles, 10% off for promotion. There was another fragrance too, an apple cinnamon one. Lexa pulled a jar off the shelf, and opened the lid, revealing a light brown color, just a shade darker than the color of her skin. She breathed in the sweetness of the cinnamon and the fresh apple smell, and sighed. She grabbed a jar of the deep rust-colored pumpkin candles, and took a breath. She hadn’t smelled them in a year.

She selected a medium jar each of the pumpkin and the apple cinnamon, and grabbed a large jar of one of her usual fragrances she was running low on, pinewood forest, a deep green candle that smelled just like the forest behind her house, and headed over to the counter, her heart beginning to pound with nerves.

“Hello,” Lexa said, setting her candles down on the table. Clarke jumped, and looked up. Their eyes met, and Lexa felt goosebumps erupt over her arms as a spark of electricity jolted down her spine. 

“Ohmigosh, I’m so sorry I didn’t greet you earlier!” The girl said, flustered. A low red flush crept over her neck, and Lexa grinned inwardly. “I’m new here, and Indra asked me to check the stock, so I was running through the paper and not paying attention.”

“That’s fine,” Lexa said. “I’m a regular here, and I noticed that you were new.”

“My name is Clake, by the way,” the girl said, offering her hand. “Clarke Griffin.”

“Lexa Woods,” Lexa said, taking the hand in hers. It was soft and warm.

“You have cold hands,” Clarke said as she let go with a faint smile.

“Reason why I constantly have candles at home,” Lexa said. “I’m a cold person, I need some warmth in my life.”

Clarke smiled, and looked at her selection of candles. “Are you all set to go then? Got everything you wanted?”

Not everything, Lexa thought, but said, “Yup, all set to go.”

Clarke rang up her three candles, and Lexa took a deep breath. “So what brought you to this store?”

Clarke looked up again, blue eyes meeting hazel. “Well, I moved here at the end of the summer to study at Arkadia University,” she said. “I want to be an artist. And one of my friends, Octavia, told me that this shop was hiring and that I might be interested, cuz I was looking for a job. Indra met me and loved me, so she hired me instantly.”

“Ah, yes, a college student,” Lexa said with a smile. “I remember those days.”

“How old are you?” Clarke asked with a curious look.

“Not,” Lexa laughed. “I jest. I graduated last spring from Arkadia, and picked up a job doing social work. I love helping people.”

“I understand,” Clarke said. “I have a problem saying no.”

“Me too!” Lexa said. “I always take too much on my plate. But now that I’m working full time, and live finally in my own place, I’m taking it easy this year.”

“Nice,” Clarke said. “I wish I could take it easy. But midterms are coming up. Right in time for the new stock! At least Indra lets me do homework here. I can’t paint, but I can work on my sketches.”

Lexa paused, her heart practically jumping out of her chest, and then said, “Could I have a look?”

Clarke looked vaguely uncomfortable. “I dunno,” she said. “I never really show my art to anyone outside my mom and my class.”

“It’s ok if you don’t,” Lexa said, her heart dropping from her throat to her shoes, and a flush creeping into her ears. 

Clarke seized Lexa up for a moment. “Actually, you know what? Why not,” she said, and pulled out a worn sketchbook, and handing it to Lexa. “Be gentle.”

“Of course,” Lexa said, taking the book from Clarke’s hands, and opening the well worn cover. The inside page read in neat handwriting: Property of Clarke Griffin. Beneath it was a phone number. Lexa began to flip through the pages.

Her breath caught. Clarke’s sketches and watercolors were out of this world. Beautiful landscape sketches of valleys and fields and woods brought to life with a gentle hand practically jumped out of the pages. Portraits of Clarke’s friends in the pages, with their names written below. Studies of buildings on campus.

“These are...” Lexa began and couldn’t find a word good enough to describe Clarke’s sketches. “These are amazing.”

“Thank you,” Clarke said as Lexa handed back the sketchbook. 

“You really have talent, and I do not say that lightly,” she said. “I would buy some prints...paintings, sketches, anything. You’re amazing.” This was said directly to her face.

Clarke looked down, blushing. “Thank you, Lexa,” she said.

Lexa looked down, the moment turned slightly awkward.

“Shall I ring you up?” Clarke asked after the pause quickly

“Yes that would be nice,” Lexa said, looking at her feet. Clarke rung up the candles. 

“Sixteen thirty four,” she said. Lexa handed over a twenty dollar bill, and Clarke handed her change, a receipt and the three candles, neatly placed in a brown paper bag. Lexa placed the change in her wallet, and was about to fold up the receipt when Clarke cleared her throat. Lexa, slightly confused, looked at the receipt again, and noticed a number written on the corner. A number next to a small heart.

She looked up at Clarke, who smiled and winked at her. “Have a good day, Miss Lexa Woods,” Clarke said.

“Thank you,” Lexa said, picking up her bag of candles and leaving. She stopped on a bench, regaining her breath, and looking at the number, smiling to herself.

After that, they began texting. At first it was now and then, when they were doing something cool, or just to say hi. And then they started texting into the night, saying goodnight to each other before bed. Clarke would text Lexa about her art, Lexa would text Clarke about annoying people asking for money she had to deal with. They exchanged snaps, and started sending each other pictures of things they did during the day. Lexa began to come into Trikru several times a week, whenever Clarke had a shift. Lexa had evenings free, and Clarke worked three evenings a week. Lexa was there for almost every shift.

Clarke would share her sketches with Lexa on her shift whenever they were alone in the shop. Lexa would flip through them, gazing at the beauty in the drawings. Clarke would smile, tuck her hair behind her ear and blush as Lexa showered her with compliments. 

“Who is this?” Lexa asked one day, flipping upon a portrait of a boy, his hair hung in curtains over his head, disheveled slightly but in a handsome way. He was gazing out from below his eyes. A name was written below his face -- Finn. A small heart was drawn next to his name.

“Oh,” Clarke said, pulling the sketchbook back and closing it firmly. “Finn. He’s my ex.” Her smile disappeared, and her mood immediately shifted to defensive and dark.

“My bad,” Lexa said, withdrawing. “We don’t have to talk about if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, it’s just...bad memories there,” Clarke said.

Lexa took a deep breath. In all the time she had known Clarke, she had never once mentioned her sexuality or her previous relationship, despite her ever growing feelings for Clarke. But it was time.

“We’ve all had bad times,” Lexa said. “My last relationship...”

“You don’t have to say,” Clarke said.

“Well,” Lexa said, shrugging. “She was a girl named Costia. And I loved her more than anything.”

“Did it end badly?” Clarke asked. Lexa couldn’t tell her reaction.

“You could say,” Lexa said, shrugging her shoulders. She stared pointedly at the corner of the register as she spoke. “She died because a drunk driver crashed into her car.”

Clarke didn’t speak. She flipped open the counter and emerged from behind the register, and without saying anything, hugged Lexa. Lexa buried her face into Clarke’s shoulder, breathing her in. It was better than anything she had ever felt, not since Costia at any rate. Clarke’s hands wrapped around her waist, fit there like they were meant to be there.

“Finn was my boyfriend,” Clarke said. “But it turned out he was dating another girl at the same time as me. We don’t talk anymore.”

“Clarke,” Lexa said, pulling her in again. The two girls stood there for a long time, arms wrapped around each other. They finally broke the hug.

Clarke looked into Lexa’s eyes, Lexa’s heart pounding. “Do you...” Clarke cleared her throat. “Do you maybe want to get some coffee sometime?”

Lexa’s heart jumped from her stomach to her throat, practically knocking her over from shock. Clarke returned the feeling??

“Um...uh....uh,” Lexa stuttered, her face going red. “Yes!”

Clarke smiled. “Is friday afternoon ok?”

“Of course!” Lexa said, looking at her watch. It was wednesday. How could she possibly wait that long?

The days crawled by. Lexa would sit at her counter at work and people would come in, but every time they left she would look at the clock and sigh as an hour or two had passed. To pass the time, Lexa simply imagined Clarke working at school. Clarke had long ago told her her schedule. Looking at the clock on the wall, Lexa imagined Clarke in Art History right now, it was a MWF class. 

Clarke didn’t work again until sunday (she worked sundays, tuesdays and wednesday evenings from 12 to 6; the shop was closed mondays). Lexa wanted to see her now. The stretch of time between wednesday and sunday was always hard. Lexa would sometimes go out on the weekend with her friends Gustus and Anya, but it never felt quite right. Something was missing.

Finally, finally, it was friday. Lexa was meeting Clarke on campus, just outside of the art building, as Clarke would get out of friday studio time at 5:30, and they would head over to get some dinner. 

The day slugged by, even slower than thursday had been. Lexa watched the minutes ooze by like molasses until she got out at 5. She practically sprinted to her car, jumping in and cranking up some music. It was a lovely fall day, still warm from the summer, so she drove with the windows down. 

Driving on campus was always a mess as college students would jump out at random times. Lexa usually stayed far away from Arkadia, but ever since she met Clarke she had changed her route to work through the university. Just...for kicks.

The art building was on the south edge of campus, with the theatre across the street and Jennings Hall down the road, which was where all the art history courses were taught. This corner of the campus was vaguely known as the ‘arts district’, despite there being approximately four buildings that directly related to art. Despite being a public university, Arkadia had a pretty good art program. Lexa always saw artists displaying their work in coffee shops downtown.

Lexa pulled up to the front of the building and turned off her car. She was fifteen minutes early. She tried to read, but she couldn’t focus she was far too nervous, instead just tapping her foot on the bottom of the car, trying not to freak out too hard.

Clarke came out of the building a few minutes after 5:30, golden hair blowing in the wind, like some sort of otherworldly being, her art supplies in a canvas bag slung over her shoulder, sunglasses over her eyes. She was looking at the ground, and looked up to meet eyes with Lexa in the car, a grin spreading over her face.

“Hey,” she said, opening the door and placing her bag on the floor below the seat, sliding in and buckling the seatbelt, closing the door firmly shut.

“Hey,” Lexa said, trying to prevent her smile from bursting too wide and failing quite miserably. Clarke pushed up her sunglasses and Lexa got a glimpse of her sparkling blue eyes. She nearly swooned on the spot.

Get it together, Woods, she thought to herself, shaking her head and regaining composure.

“So, we ready to go?” Clarke asked. “I’m starving. Three hours of drawing does that to you.”

“Of course,” Lexa said, pulling out and headed over to the restaurant they agreed on, a local thai food place they both ordered from on many occasions.

Clarke told Lexa about her day, an english seminar at 10, art history at 11, and then studio time for her entire afternoon.

“...and you know, most kids don’t like having class on friday afternoon, but studio time is hardly class because I love it so much...” Clarke said, talking on and on. Lexa was just content to listen to every word.

“...anyway, how was your day?” Clarke asked as they pulled into a parking spot. Lexa got out and paid for the meter.

“Good,” Lexa said. “Slow. There were a few people who came in, but overall it wasn’t too busy. Fridays are generally on the slow side anyway.”

“Dude, your job is so intense, working with people all the time. How do you do it?” Clarke asked. “I mean, I’m an extravert, but if I had to do that every day, I’d probably go crazy.”

“I dunno,” Lexa said, shrugging as Clarke opened the door for her. They got a table. “I mean, I just like helping people. Sure there are awful people that I want to kill, but there are also some really genuinely kind people. I also have many crazy stories because of it.”

“No way,” Clarke said. “Tell me one.”

Lexa laughed. “Well, there was this good one the other day...”

It was like she had never felt this happy before. Costia, maybe, but Clarke was real, in front of her. Long after Costia had died Lexa had still never been over her. Only in the past year, really, after she had left uni and started working, living on her own did she finally get over her. But Clarke...Clarke was everything she loved, pumpkin candles and afghans on a cold fall day, hot chocolate in your hands, a walk in the park wearing a scarf and a wool coat...she was the first frost of winter and the snowflakes falling at 2 in the morning, reflecting the streetlights...she was the stars on a summer evening, stretching out on the grass.

Dinner passed in a whirlwind, exchanging stories, laughing, and Clarke began talking about her art.

“So what all do you draw?” Lexa asked. They had long ago finished eating, bowls of curry and pad thai finished in front of them. “Like, how do you decide?”

“Drawing buildings is easy. I’ve drawn just about every building on campus,” Clarke said. “I like doing them for prospective studies, because landscapes are much harder. Those I have to hike out and find. And when I do, it’s an afternoon commitment to at least sketch, but I really like bringing out my watercolors and painting it right there. Some of the artists I know just take a picture and use that, but I hate doing that. It feels...inauthentic somehow, like you’re not giving the land the time it needs. You’re not appreciating it.”

“What about people?” Lexa asked.

“I just draw whoever I can,” Clarke said. “Mostly my friends. Exes. My mom when I’m home with her. Models in the studio sometimes, when they’re there. But mostly friends, as you saw looking through the notebook.”

“That’s amazing,” Lexa said. “Just, having that level of trust with someone. Looking at their face for so long, you must notice all the flaws.”

“You also notice things you might not the first time you see them,” Clarke said with a smile. “I could draw you, you know.”

Lexa paused, blushing. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Clarke said. “I’m in a drawing mood anyway. Let’s go!”

“Ok, calm down, calm down,” Lexa said. “We need the bill first!” She flagged down the waitress and when Clarke attempted to pull money out Lexa shook her head, instead covering it. “You’re a poor college student. I got this.”

Clarke smiled in relief. “You really don’t have too,” she said.

“Oh please,” Lexa said. Clarke looked down at her knees.

They paid and left, Lexa swiping two mints on the way out, passing one to Clarke.

“Are you ready?” Lexa asked, pulling into the driveway of her building. It was a joint house she shared, divided into four apartments. Hers was the top floor, around the corner. 

“As ever,” Clarke said. Lexa led her around to the outside stairs, leading her up and unlocking the door.

“Warning,” Lexa said, opening the door. “It’s a little small.” She gestured inside. “After you, milady,” she said with a giggle.

Clarke stepped inside. Lexa’s apartment opened up to a combination kitchen/dining room/living room/everything room. There were two doors opening on the other side of the room directly across from the door, the right leading to Lexa’s bedroom, the other to the bathroom.

“Like I said, it’s --” Lexa began.

“Amazing,” Clarke said, looking around.

Lexa smiled. She did know how to decorate. A shelf on the side of the room, a thrifted couch in front of a television set that was probably ten years out of date. A small table with three chairs was against another wall, and the kitchen in an l shape across from it to the left of the door.

Candles covered just about every surface in Lexa’s apartment. Scented ones on the shelf, tall white ones on the table, short fat colored ones by the tv set, a few sprinkled through the kitchen hidden beside the microwave and the toaster. Lexa extracted a lighter and made a deal of lighting all of them.

“For interesting lighting, or something,” Lexa said. The delicious smells of the scented candles filled the apartment. Lexa inhaled deeply. Home.

Clarke sat gently on the couch, nervous, but clearly happy. “Do you want me in a chair, on the couch, on the floor?” Lexa asked.

“Actually, grab one of those chairs from over there and trade places with me,” Clarke said. “If you don’t mind I’d love to draw you on the couch.”

Lexa obliged, bringing over one of the wooden chairs from the table and setting it in front of the couch, directly in front of the television. 

“Now, lay on the couch,” Clarke said.

“You want me to look at you, or?” Lexa asked.

“Whatever is comfortable for you,” Clarke said, pulling out her bag. “Just stay still, please.”

Lexa found a position that was fairly comfortable and looked at the floor. She tried. But it just wasn’t interesting. So she looked at Clarke instead.

The hour was long, and also short. The energy was electric as Clarke’s eyes scraped over her body, the only sound being the pencil scraping on the sketchbook. Lexa watched Clarke draw, her brow pull into the slightest of frowns as her concentration deepened, her eyes flicking from her book to various parts of Lexa. Lexa took in her face, how the longer she stared at it the more she noticed; Clarke’s long blonde hair, her cheekbones, the slight dimple in her chin, her light eyebrows, perfectly sculpted. Her small, triangular nose, centered in her face. When Clarke reached a particularly intense bit of concentration, her tongue protruded ever so slightly between her lips as the pencil moved across the page. Lexa remained still, quiet, and couldn’t stop watching Clarke. It was electrifying.

“Done,” Clarke whispered softly. Lexa blinked. She hadn’t realized how long she had been staring. Her body was stiff, but not too stiff. She sat up and stretched. It felt like forever, it felt like an instant.

“Can I see?” Lexa asked, even softer.

Clarke flipped over the sketchbook. Captured in every curve and edge was Lexa, lounging on the couch, her eyes staring into the audience’s as Lexa had stared at Clarke for the past hour.

“It’s beautiful,” Lexa said, helpless.

“Not as beautiful as the real thing,” Clarke said, and came over to the couch, kneeling in front of Lexa. She leaned forward and their lips met. 

The kiss sent waves of tingles down Lexa’s abdomen, made her stomach flutter with butterflies and her heart pound, goosebumps all down her arms. She sighed into Clarke’s lips, soft and full.

“So um,” Clarke said after she finally broke the kiss. “I don’t think I’ve gotten the full house tour, have I?”

“I suppose there are other rooms I could show you,” Lexa said with a grin. She picked up the other girl with all her strength. Clarke let out a surprised yelp that dissolved into giggles. “I could also show you other things.”

“I would like that,” Clarke said, Lexa’s lips meeting hers once again as she was carried to the door on the right.


End file.
